


of all the gin joints..

by flirtingwithtrackers



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flirtingwithtrackers/pseuds/flirtingwithtrackers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(except subtract the gin joint and add in a coed communal college dorm bathroom, oops)</p><p>the one where bellamy walks in on clarke masturbating</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. pt. i: soap in her hair

**Author's Note:**

> edit: **downrated to M! 
> 
> also, hope you enjoy! :))

Bellamy lets out a sigh of relief as he finally makes his way down the hall towards the bathroom. He just got off of his late shift at the bar and he just wants to shower, dammit. It’s almost 2:30 am and he had a long day that turned into a long night as he tolerated his way through a birthday party for yet another overexcited (and over-intoxicated) 21-year-old. He’s pretty sure he did not get enough tips for the amount of forced flirting he did and some girl in a too tight dress spilled vodka on him over the bar in a clumsy attempt to get his attention.

Bellamy walks into the giant bathroom with his towel and toiletries in hand. The plumbing at his apartment isn’t working, and since the repair guy isn’t coming until next week, Octavia has been sneaking him into her dorm building so he can grab a shower after his shifts. It reminds him a little too much of his college days, being in a communal bathroom again. Bellamy definitely does not miss this. He assumed that no one would be in here, as it’s pretty late at night on a weekday, and therefore no one would question why a 24-year-old who smells like vodka and sweat is in a college dormitory bathroom. But when he first walks in, Bellamy can hear one of the showers running.

Clarke has just gotten back from way too many hours in the library. Normally she doesn’t spend long, late hours at the library sitting in the middle of campus, but she has a midterm coming up and is determined to do better on this one than the last. Not only has Clarke been slaving over her past homework sets, but she even took on some extra ones. One problem has been causing the poor girl trouble all night, as it’s seemingly impossible to solve. No matter how many times she tries, she can’t seem to come up with the right answer (or even a reasonable one).

And this is why Clarke’s taking a shower at 2, _or is it 3?_ , in the morning trying to relax so she can try to get some sleep. She has to get up early again tomorrow morning and make the same tired walk to the library to finish studying. And now she’s thinking about that _stupid_ problem again—so much for a relaxing shower. The blonde can feel her eyebrows draw together in frustration and tries to think of something else, anything else. Clarke feels like her skin is pulled too tightly around her bones, like any more tension might actually snap her in two. She is so stressed she has to physically stop herself from grinding her teeth together.

In an attempt to relax and just get rid of this tension (and forget about this goddamn unsolvable problem), Clarke draws her fingertips across her stomach, her sides, making random, soothing patterns. Her hands slowly descend down her body until they reach her curls, and she physically feels some of stress leave her body, anticipating the flood of relief that shouldn’t be too far off. Normally Clarke wouldn’t do something so, well, _intimate_ in the coed bathroom where literally anyone could come in, but it’s so late and she’s desperate for some kind of release, literally _any_ , just to make it through the rest of this week. And it’s not like Clarke has had time for stuff like this, she’s barely had time to sleep and eat, let alone masturbate.

A small noise comes from one of the middle showers and Bellamy stops in his tracks. A few seconds later, he hears another noise, but this is one is much more pronounced--more like a moan than the sigh he heard before. It takes Bellamy a few seconds to realize what’s happening. He can hear the heavy breathing of whoever’s in there, now that he’s searching for the noise. The dark-haired man contemplates whether or not he should leave right now, come back when they’re done, but he’s pinned in his place by the sounds. The higher-pitched whines are causing images of a hot college student to swim around in his head, imagining exactly what she’s doing to herself behind the flimsy white curtain between them.

Clarke was trying to maintain her public decency and keep her breathing (and volume) under control, but she simply couldn’t. She bite off the first few moans, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, but this release was a long time coming and now she couldn’t help herself. Who would even hear her, right? The bathroom was down at the end of the hallway and everyone’s probably sleeping or too heavily concentrated on some late-night binge studying to pay any attention to any sounds they may hear coming from the bathroom. The sound of the running water probably drowns out the sound long before it hits the bathroom door, anyway. If she had any reservations about openly masturbating in the bathroom, they certainly aren’t here anymore, as she tries (and fails) to cut off another low moan as she curls her fingers upwards inside her.

Clarke can feel the pressure build as she speeds up the tempo and presses down more firmly on her clit. She’s so close, she can almost taste it, but every time Clarke thinks she’s finally going to get there, it escapes her, recedes back. To be fair, the blonde hasn’t done this in a while with everything that’s been going on, schoolwork, the internship at the hospital, maybe she’s a little rusty. She just needs a little push to get there, just a little more, so her mind wanders through some fantasy material. Normally she’d have a certain someone to think about, but things are a little weird right now. Clarke’s mind slowly flips through a few options, men with nice hands and fingers, strong arms that could easily wrap around her waist, or lips she would desperately want to feel on her flushed skin.

As Clarke’s hand slowly moves up her chest to tease at her pebbled nipple, her mind drifts to much darker, much bigger hands that could be doing a much better job. She can very vividly remember the tall, dark, and handsome man working at the library earlier that week and the way his incredibly long fingers (not that she was looking or anything) brushed down the spines of the books he was restacking on the shelves next to her signature study table. Clarke sees him around once or twice a week, usually wearing a snug tee that shows off his wonderful biceps and the beautiful shape of his collar bone. He really is very handsome, all lean muscle, olive skin, and dark curls. So _excuse her_ if his hands just happen to pop into her head at this moment in time. She’s spent too many hours in the damn library and if imagining this beautiful (he really is _beautiful_ ) man helping her out does the job, then so be it.

Clarke can almost imagine what his fingers would feel like as her hand moves down her torso again. She circles her clit as her other hand continues to pump in and out at a delicious pace. If the hot librarian with the perfectly mussed dark curls were actually doing this, his fingers would be so much longer and hit that spot she just can’t seem to reach, and that thought causes a little moan to escape her lips. Clarke can almost see it, the much taller, darker man crowding her up against the shelf, leaving goosebumps in the wake of the pads of his fingertips as he lightly drags them up her thighs. His hand roams up past the hem of her skirt in the middle of the library, and _jesus, Clarke, the library?_ , while his other arm is braced against the bookshelf behind her, pinning her in place. She imagines his breath at her ear, rolling down her neck, making her shiver. Clarke has to shove her fingers into her mouth to stop a loud unapologetic moan that falls out of her mouth at the thought of him fucking her with his fingers against the shelf, his hand now over her mouth to make sure she doesn’t give them away. 

Bellamy is still standing in the same spot, a few feet away from the curtain that’s separating him from the breathy noises and throaty moans that are currently driving him insane. If the girl behind the curtain was trying to keep her noises to herself, she no longer had that much restraint. Bellamy can very _clearly_ hear every noise she makes as she pushes herself closer and closer to the edge. The moans and sighs (and the occasional whine) are causing a bit of a, umm, situation, as Bellamy can feel his erection begin to press up against the zipper of his jeans. Bellamy almost curses in frustration, because _shit, Blake, she can’t be much older than O, get it together_ , but he catches himself before he all but announces his presence to her.

He may be imagining it, but he can almost see the outline of her shape through the cheap shower curtain, and _fuck_. If he can’t actually see her, well, Bellamy’s imagination is doing plenty for him. He hears a particularly loud moan, although it sounds muffled, as though she clamped her hand over her mouth, and he assumes that she finally came. And he just listened to the whole thing happen. While standing mere feet away from her. And she’s probably going to come out any minute now. He should probably not be here when she gets out, especially not with a giant bulge in his jeans (he’d have a hard time explaining that away). The older man slowly walks away from the stall, in hopes that she won’t hear him, when he hears her turn the water off.

Bellamy manages to slip far back enough into the bathroom when she comes out from behind the curtain in nothing but a towel, and _shit_ , she’s beautiful. Her wet blonde hair is falling down her back in thick clumps that she’s trying to brush through with her fingers. Bellamy can only see her profile, but the blush from the hot water (and probably her orgasm, he thinks) is very noticeable on her cheeks. Bellamy tries not to stare and fails as he admires the soft curve of her neck and shoulders and the small mole on her left shoulder blade that contrasts with her fair skin. If he wasn’t hard before, he is now, imagining all of those noises coming out of that mouth, that soft, pink mouth. He waits and watches her, _way to be a creep, Blake_ , until she finally leaves, with her hair clinging to her shoulders.

And now he thinks about the noises she was making again and damn him if he wants nothing more than to see if he could make her moan louder. So Bellamy jumps into the shower himself and angrily rubs one off thinking about some blonde college student he doesn’t even know after listening to her masturbate herself in the same bathroom only moments ago. A few minutes later, he’s groaning loudly (and still very grumpily) and coming all over the shower wall, placing his forehead against the tile wall, until he remember he’s in a communal bathroom and begins scrubbing at his forehead with the back of his hand.

***

Later that week, when Bellamy finally makes room in his work schedule to finally meet his little sister’s new roommate, he comes face to face with a very familiar looking blonde. He tries to hide his shock with a smirk, as he reprimands himself for getting off to O’s roommate, _of all the girls at this fucking university_. Bellamy is then once again reacquainted with the pretty girl’s high blush (and he tries not to imagine the cut-off moans she was making only a few nights ago) just as Clarke realizes _Octavia's brother is hot librarian guy I fantasized about the other night_ and she can feel the redness burning at her cheeks and slowly trailing down her neck. 


	2. pt. ii: books at her back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clarke and bellamy meet at the library and things get a little _steamy_
> 
> or, the one where bellamy is on his knees in the library?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here's your sequel, guys! i wanted it to be better, but i got a little stuck.. hopefully it'd okay :))
> 
> let me know what you think, enjoy :))
> 
> also, still M-rated, but let me know if you think it shouldn't be!!!!

Clarke’s sitting at her favorite study table at her university’s biggest library on campus, fiddling with the highlighter in her hand and pretending like she isn’t checking out her roommate’s older brother, _which she isn’t, thank you very much_. But if she were, no one could really blame her. The man looks like a god (but smirks like the devil himself, like he knows all your dirty little secrets), for fuck’s sake. _It’s really fucking distracting_. 

Regardless, Clarke is _not_ looking at the way his shirt rids up just a bit as he puts books back onto the top shelves, showing just a bit of the dark, toned muscle hidden underneath. And she is _not_ admiring the veins running up his forearms and the way his knuckles whiten as he tightens his grasp on the book’s spine. Or the way he runs his fingertips down the line of books, trying to find the right spot to replace the books. _Or_ the way his curls look so perfectly mussed that she wants to run her fingers through them and mess them up even more.

She really came into the library with the intention of studying. Clarke planned on sitting down for a few hours before grabbing dinner with some friends and studying for a quiz she has next Monday. But somehow, in between ethers and epoxides, Clarke had seen hot librarian guy (oh, she has a name now, _Bellamy_ ) make his way up the isle next to her, putting away books like he usually does. He still hasn’t seen her yet, with his back mainly turned towards her. So she may or may not be taking the opportunity to check out Bellamy instead of brushing up on organic chemistry, _sue her_.

She’s staring at his neck, right where it meets the shoulder, right where he is rubbing at his neck with his hand, thinking about how it would feel to run her tongue over it before biting down (and maybe the groan he’d let out) and Clarke feels her cheeks redden as she remembers _another_ time when she had similar thoughts about Bellamy. Which makes it the opportune time for Bellamy to turn around to the shelf behind him, making him face her. Clarke sees him look up at her and the recognition that crosses his face; she is his little sister’s roommate, after all. The blonde shoves her face down into the desk, hiding part of her face with her hair in the process, pretending to study and trying to get rid of her blush by force of sheer will before he can see her.

Bellamy is _not_ trying to fuck his little sister’s roommate. He _isn’t_. Okay, so maybe he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her since that night in the co-ed bathroom, but that doesn’t mean anything. And he wouldn’t want to do anything that may jeopardize his sister’s relationship with her roommate, especially since they seem like good friends. Bellamy’s glad his sister has someone to talk to and hang out with anyways. Which is exactly why he is definitely _not_ into his sister’s roommate at all. _Yeah, Blake, keep telling yourself that_.

He’s working at the library again, restacking books as always, when he sees a glimpse of blonde hair. Bellamy looks up again and sees Clarke sitting at a table, textbooks spread out all over the table, a highlighter in her hand, and a blush on her cheeks. She quickly looks down the second he sees her and Bellamy tries to hide his smirk as he makes his way over to her table. He’s just going to go say hi. He’s being friendly to his sister’s roommate, _okay?_

She really is quite beautiful, with her golden hair splayed around her shoulders, some tucked behind her ear as she tries to look like she’s studying. The blush on her cheeks is extremely endearing and Bellamy has to stifle as smug smile as he thinks just _maybe_ he has something to do with it. Although he’s already seen much more of her (not that she knows that), his eyes still linger on her chest, the soft, pale skin just above the top of her shirt and he has to tell himself to look up at her eyes once she lifts her head to look at him.

Okay so maybe Bellamy’s imagined her a few times in a few compromising positions, but only because now he knows what her voice sounds like (along with the sounds of her moaning and whining as she makes herself come). So he may, _or may not_ , imagine her breathing into his ear and her moans turning into his name, as he fucks her into his mattress. He’s only human! And the circumstances under which he first saw her don’t really help, either. Pushing all of _those_ thoughts from his mind, Bellamy walks towards the table she’s sitting at and smiles at Clarke when she looks up at him from her seat.

Clarke looks at Bellamy to find him smiling at her, _more like smirking, the bastard_ , and gesturing towards the seat across the table from her. She nods her permission and he sits across from her. She tries not to think about how she can almost see all of the freckles that dance across the bridge of Bellamy’s nose or the dip in the middle of his chin. Clarke rushes out a nervous _hi_ that makes him smile at her again and she tries not to look so affected.

He begins talking to her, saying he just needed a break from stacking those damn books again. Bellamy loves the library, he does, but some days the work can get monotonous. Honestly, his favorite part of working here is the atmosphere, the quiet, the feeling of books all around you. That and he has access to some seriously _cool_ documents hidden in the lower levels of the library a few times a month. Here Clarke turns her head to the side as if she’s trying to figure him out and tries (but fails) to stifle the laugh at his expense, but he starts laughing, too. The conversation eventually moves to Octavia, and Clarke can’t help but feel a little guilty, fawning over her roommate’s older brother like this, _not that that’s what she’s doing or anything_.

Bellamy honestly isn’t sure why he came over. He could have just waved and gone back to his work, but something about the blonde just held his attention. Every since he first saw her come out of that shower and then later on, actually meeting her, learning her name, _Clarke_ , he felt the need to know more, to know her. Something about her intrigued him, like the sparkling of her blue eyes, or the little mark above her lip that moves up whenever she smiles, or the way her lips purse together when she’s confused. Or the fact that she’s hot, like _really_ hot. Whatever it is, it draws him to her, which is why he’s sitting across from her, talking about school and Octavia and god knows what else instead of restacking book shelves.

When Bellamy finally gets up, telling her he has to finish restacking, Clarke offers to help. She gives the pathetic excuse of wanting to take a study break, _smooth, Clarke_ , as they walk over to the cart of books Bellamy is supposed to be organizing and putting back on the shelves. They go through a series of topics—the history thesis he wrote a few years ago, her art, his multiple jobs, her courses, what movies they like, their favorite books—in hushed whispers.

It’s getting a bit late, the library is slowly emptying out, and Clarke really should be getting home soon for dinner, but they only have a few books left sitting in the cart. Clarke has been giving all the books that need to go on higher shelves to Bellamy, since she can’t seem to reach, but she thinks she can put away the one in her hand. It belongs on a shelf only a _little_ higher than she can fully reach, but if she gets on her tippy toes, she can probably do it.

She manages to nudge the edge of the book’s spine in between two other books on the shelf, but is struggling to push the book all the way in. Clarke losses her balance and rocks backward, causing her fingers to leave the book’s spine. Just as the book is about to fall, she sees a tanned arm rise above her hand and grab the book before putting it where it belongs.

Bellamy slowly puts his arm down but does not move. He settles for standing behind her, with mere inches between their bodies. Bellamy tries not to sigh as he breathes her in, smelling the scent of strawberries in her hair, _probably from her shampoo_. He also has to fight the urge not to move forward, to feel her body up against his, to push her up against the shelf. Bellamy knows he should move away, step back, that he’s probably in her personal space, but she hasn’t moved so he isn’t going to.

Clarke can feel his warmth at her shoulder, his face hovering inches above it. If she turned her head, she could easily nuzzle into his neck (not that she would even _want_ to do that). They stand in silence as Clarke suppress a shiver at the tingling that pricks the skin stretched over her spine, where she _swears_ she can feel his fingertips skim the small of her back. Eventually Clarke gets the courage to turn around, trying not to make any sudden movements or sounds that would break whatever thick calm has fallen over them.

She can feel her heart rate pick up when she notices how close they are. Bellamy is looking down at her, studying her face, his gaze resting on her lips. Clarke breathes in deeply, breathing in his soapy scent, brisk and clean, and her mind swirls. She has no idea what they’re doing, looking at each other, but Clarke refuses to be the one to break them out of whatever is happening. Clarke breaths out a _thank you_ that Bellamy nods at, never moving his eyes from her lips. She sweeps her eyes over his face, taking in his dark eyes and the way his lips are parted just slightly. That’s when Bellamy dips his head down, when she’s trying to memorize the shape of his lips, the dip of his stupid cupid’s bow.

Bellamy swears he tried not to, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t kissing Clarke in between shelves of the library right now. Bellamy couldn’t stop staring at the mark above her lip when she absentmindedly wet her lips, her small pink tongue slipping out of her mouth to leave a glistening trail across her bottom lip, and he just _had_ to kiss her. Which is exactly what he did. He pressed his lips firmly against hers, drawing his arms up to wrap his fingers around her upper arms, keeping her steady. She relaxed into him quickly, pressing back against his lips before parting them to let his tongue explore her mouth. And _shit_ , she tastes even sweeter than Bellamy expected.

He moves his hand to Clarke’s back, pressing her further into him as he backs them up into the shelf behind her. Clarke gasps as her back hits the shelf, pulling away from Bellamy’s lips. He takes the opportunity to trail open-mouthed kisses down her neck, stopping to lightly bite at the skin that was revealed when her cardigan sleeve fell off her shoulder. Clarke feels her skin redden as it flushes under the attention of Bellamy’s mouth and she stifles a moan. She begins to wonder if the fantasy she had a week or two ago wasn’t really all that fair from reality, but curses herself when she feels the familiar heat settle low in her belly. Clarke tries not to, but she _wants_ , she wants this (whatever this is) and she wants Bellamy, and begins tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck, eliciting a low groan out of him.

Bellamy does _not_ want to fuck his little sister’s roommate, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t lowering himself to his knees in front of her in the middle of the library as the lights begin to flicker off. He knows that everyone has left by now, with the library closing at 6. Technically, he should be getting off work right now, but the security guard knows that he likes to stay late some nights and take advantage of all the books and the quiet before going to his night shift at the bar. Which is why he isn’t too worried about getting caught, _or_ he literally just couldn’t care at all right now.

Clarke is basically frozen in place when she sees Bellamy fall to his knees and look up at her, waiting for her permission before he does anything. Everything about this feels dangerous and wrong, _they’re in the library, for fuck’s sake_ , but it feels _so right_. She nods while placing her hand on his shoulder, bracing herself against the shelf behind her. Clarke tries not to whimper as Bellamy runs his hands up her calves, stopping just above her knees to lean in and leave small kisses on the top of her thighs.

His hand roams up her skirt while his mouth keeps trailing kisses up her thigh. Clarke sucks in a quick breath when Bellamy’s hand brushes against her. He lifts up her skirt, pushing it up and revealing the cotton fabric of her light blue panties, and presses his fingers where a small damp patch is forming, drawing a line with his fingertip down her slit over the fabric. Bellamy smirks up at her, _like the smug bastard he is_ , when Clarke visibly shudders and wobbles on her legs a little. He glances behind him before instructing her to sit on the top of the cart in the isle with them. Bellamy smirks widens (as does his ego) when she immediately obeys. He moves over to her, still kneeling down in front of her, and grabs her ass to pull her to the edge of the cart.

Bellamy wants to take her panties off (maybe so he can try to keep them afterwards, _the creep_ ), but decides it would probably be safer not to. He uses two fingers to push the fabric aside and lowers his head, pressing a light kiss to her clit. As he circles her clit with his tongue, Clarke begins to make noises _very_ similar to the ones he heard in the bathroom the other week and he can’t stop a groan from escaping his lips _, Come on, Blake, keep it together_ , which then forces another low moan out of her. Clarke can practically feel her heartbeat in her clit and desperately tries not to pull Bellamy’s face closer to her. She has to lean her head back against the shelf for a second, trying to memorize everything she’s feeling, how _he_ feels on her aching flesh.

As Bellamy is sucking at her clit, one hand holding her panties to the side and the other now slowly pushing inside her, he practically disappears under Clarke’s skirt as he lets go of it. He feels Clarke’s fingernails run across his scalp in a way that sends a prickling sensation down his spine as he builds up a rhythm, pumping his finger into faster as he teases her clit with the broad of his tongue. She whines for more, _please, Bell, more_ , and Bellamy wants to combust as his cock throbs, but obeys her, adding another finger. The low, responding moan that rips from her throat makes Bellamy feel like he may actually die, _this girl may kill him_.

Even though his mind is getting fuzzier by the minute, Bellamy doubles his efforts, pumping into her while sealing his lips around her clit. Her legs wrap around him, ankles digging into his shoulder blades, pushing his face closer to where she wants him. A few more hard sucks and a crook of his fingers and she’s moaning out her release. Bellamy faintly thinks this is the _second_ time he’s heard her come and tries to feel guilty about it but can’t. He licks at her once more before letting the fabric of her panties go and extracting himself from her grasp to stand in the v of her thighs.

Clarke leans her forehead up against the chest in front of her and she realizes she isn’t the only one struggling for breath. She rests her head on him for a few moments, recollecting herself, before she leans back to look up at Bellamy. His irises are practically black and his lips are parted, searching her face. He really can’t help the smirk that takes over at her dazed look. They’re both staring at each other now, unable to look away. After a few silent moments, as they both get their breathing back to normal, Bellamy just laughs, because _what the actual **fuck** just happened_. Clarke looks at him with a question on her face for a moment until joining him, her light laughter filling the air around them.

As the laughter dies away, Clarke looks down, with Bellamy still standing in front of her, and can’t help but notice the (rather impressive, but she’s not going to say anything) bulge Bellamy’s sporting. She’s in the middle of offering a hand, _Would you like--_ , gesturing down, when Bellamy waves her away, telling her she should probably get home. He needs to finish up here at the library anyways. Clarke tries not to look disappointed, tries not to feel rejected (which is _ridiculous_ considering what just happened), but Bellamy must see it. A promised rain check is accompanied by that same fucking smirk and she can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. Bellamy almost wants to tell her to give his hello to his little sister, but bites it back, because _you’re a fucking idiot, Blake_.

***

Okay, so _maybe_ he wants to fuck his little sister’s roommate. But it’s totally not his fault. It’s not his fault she sounds so delicious when she’s so close to her release or that she’s probably one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen, or that her eyes droop lazily as he’s eating her out but still focus all their attention on him, or that she smells like strawberries and even better post-orgasm with a thin layer of sweat on her skin. 

Bellamy’s finishing up at the library after Clarke leaves when he realizes how _fucking stupid_ that was. Not only is she probably one of the only girls that should be off-limits, but at the library? Where he works? _Idiot, idiot, idiot._ He knows he shouldn’t see her again, but a promise is a promise, _and_ he probably couldn’t keep himself away even if he tried.

And now, he won’t be able to walk down this isle again without imagining how she tastes, _fuck him_.

***

Clarke tries to greet her roommate cheerfully as she arrives (late) to dinner with some friends, but can’t seem to get the imagine of Bellamy’s shiny nose and chin, covered in _her_ , as he leaned back to look up at her afterwards or how he put his fingers in his mouth to suck them clean, _Okay, Griffin, tone it down. You’re in public, in front of his sister, for fuck’s sake._ She really hopes she didn’t just fuck up her relationship with her roommate, but at the same time, can’t stop her heart from pounding as she remembers Bellamy’s promise. _Another time_. She’ll hold him to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty, so sorry for the lack of dialogue, i'm still not very comfortable writing for them, i am actually terrified to write them talking to each other, but i'll work on it.
> 
> hope this was a good enough sequel! i do have like a third of an idea for a pt. iii if anyone wants one, but if not, i can just leave it here :))
> 
> please let me know what you think! i am new to writing this kind of stuff so any comments/suggestions help!
> 
> chat with me on [tumblr](http://clarkeslight.tumblr.com) :))


	3. pt. iii: guilt behind her teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things get a little hot and heavy (and also interrupted)
> 
> or, the one where clarke and bellamy feel guilty, but then they don’t have to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrightey folks, so third and last installment!
> 
> thank you _so much_ for all your comments and kudos and support, you have no idea how much i appreciate it all!
> 
> i really hope you guys like this..... not as long and a little less smutty but..
> 
> ENJOY

_Another time_ turned into _many more times_.

Sometimes it’s a quick fuck in the library bathroom (because Bellamy got a stern talking to from a security guard who _thankfully_ likes him enough to not say anything) after closing or maybe a long, luxurious night at his apartment. They aren’t exactly dating, but they aren’t just fucking around either. Both Clarke and Bellamy are a little apprehensive about telling Octavia, worried it will ruin _both_ of their relationships with her. So they’ve been sneaking around, and as guilty as they feet, it’s _hot_. Late night texts and stolen kisses at the library during hours, _hot_. One time, Bellamy even texted Clarke to meet him at the bar he works at and snuck her in for a quick session during his break in the staff bathroom, _he should really stop having sex at work_ , and they both _loved_ it. 

Which is why they’re both in Clarke’s bed right now, in _Octavia’s room_ , while Octavia is spending the night with her boyfriend. Bellamy practically wants to wring the guy’s throat, but he’s pretty okay where he is right now, over Clarke, pushing her down into the bed, teasing her soft pink nipples with his mouth. At first Bellamy was a little freaked out by this, having sex in his _sister’s room_ , but then Clarke slowly started taking off her clothes and Bellamy just _had_ to help her.

Clarke can feel Bellamy’s tongue circle her nipple before capturing it into his mouth and sucking. He pulls back to admire how it hardens under his attention and then leans back in to pull at the rosy tip with his teeth. Clarke cries out at the sensation and feels a rush of arousal settle deep within her. She begins rubbing her thighs together, unable to keep still. Bellamy begins mouthing at her other nipple and drags his hand down to play with the elastic of her panties. Clarke squirms as his hands dance across the sensitive flesh, trying to stifle her giggles, but Bellamy notices and gets a _horrible_ idea.

He draws his short nails across her skin, moving up her sides, and Clarke can’t help the awful shrieks and giggles that pour out of her as she tries to tear herself out of his grip, _Stop it, you asshole!_ He stops momentarily, letting her catch her breath, before lightly stroking her inner thigh and she squirms again. Clarke’s giggles die down as he kisses her, his strokes becoming more sensual than ticklish. She can feel the goosebumps erupt all over her skin and can’t fight the shiver that passes through her.

Bellamy deepens their kiss, one arm keeping his weight off her and the other dragging his hand up and down the outside of her thigh. Clarke lifts up her hips, indicating that he should take off her underwear. Once they’re off, and probably flung across the room (she’s pretty sure he likes watching her frantically search for them when they’re done), she voices a small request, _Can I be on top this time?_

And sure, Bellamy has done this with plenty of other girls, but he’s never done it that way with Clarke. He’s never seen her above him like that, her blonde hair like a halo around her head, her breasts bouncing deliciously with the pace she makes for them. It feels like the perfect place for her, in control, a throne for his princess, _Oh for fuck’s sake, Blake_.

Bellamy quickly takes off his boxer and flips them around and Clarke straddles his hips. She places both her hands on his chest and reaches over to grab a condom out of her bedside table and rips the package open. She scoots back, sitting on the top of his thighs, and rolls the condom on before picking herself up to hover over him. Clarke slowly sinks down, reveling in the feeling of being full, filling the empty ache inside her. Bellamy’s eyes slam shut and he leans his head back against the pillow under him, trying to memorize how she feels.

Clarke gets into a rhythm, using her hands on his chest to keep her steady. Bellamy is all but mesmerized by her breasts, reaching up with one of his hands, the other tightly grasping her hip, to pluck at one of her nipples and Clarke throws her head back. Bellamy brings both hands to her waist to bring her down a little harder onto him and Clarke’s moan voices her approval. Bellamy thrusts up into her, like he just can’t help it, and Clarke clenches down around him.

They’re like this, Clarke riding Bellamy with her head thrown back in pleasure when she hears something heavy dropped by the door and Octavia’s voice ringing out in the hallway to talk to the girls down the hall. Clarke snaps up, eyes wide in shock and she pushes Bellamy’s hands off her hips, struggling to get off him and grab as many clothes as possible. She pushes Bellamy off the bed and towards the closet, throwing his boxers at him before he closes himself inside. Clarke throws on a tank top and the shorts she had on, _where the **fuck** are my underwear?_ Octavia finally comes in as Clarke is searching her desk looking for something to pretend to be doing, but she comes up with nothing.

Octavia looks at her, eyebrow quirked up, _What were you doing?_ Clarke panics, and lies, _oh, nothing, it’s just hot in here._ The redness on Clarke’s cheeks sure does correlate with that story. Octavia drops her bag on her bed, telling Clarke how she forgot some stuff on the way over to Lincoln’s, so he’s waiting for her outside as she grabs a few things from the room.

Octavia’s looking into her bag when she says it, _So who’s in the closet?_

Clarke says _no one_ at the same time that Bellamy lets out a frustrated _fuck_ , and Octavia just laughs, waiting for the poor boy to come out, _next time don’t leave your panties on the floor_. She quickly stops laughing when she sees her brother come out, in nothing but his boxers with his hands crossed in front of him. The look on Octavia’s face would almost be comical if both Clarke and Bellamy weren’t so terrified.

After the shock wears off, Octavia laughs again. Like loud, embarrassing, tear-inducing, hysterical laughter that almost makes them more scared. When she finally stops, Octavia looks at both of them and goes off— _could have told me, saved me the mental images, how long have you been doing this, do you guys even **like** each other, _ etc.

In the end, Octavia gives them her blessing, lifting a weight off of both of their chest, but gives them one rule: _No sex in this room, got it?_

*** 

By the end of the week, bothClarke _and_ Bellamy received the _hurt them, I hurt you_ talk from Octavia. Bellamy thinks he’s funny, _Maybe we should stay together just to avoid Octavia’s wrath_. He’s not (but she laughs anyways).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER, THE END
> 
> lol thanks so much for sticking with this, i hope you enjoyed reading it like i enjoyed writing it!
> 
> idek why i keep making bellamy have sex at work??? like i am so sorry????
> 
> ALSO CONDOMS BECAUSE SAFE SEX EVERYONE I LIKE CONDOMS IN FICTION (edit: i was informed you should not rip condoms open with your teeth, so that has been changed! sorry, i was unaware! ~the more you know~)
> 
> as always, comments/suggestions are always welcome and you can chat me up (or give me a prompt) on [tumblr](http://clarkeslight.tumblr.com) :)))

**Author's Note:**

> hi hey, so this is my first fic ever, i hope you liked it.... shout out to [scottmczall](http://scottmczall.tumblr.com) on tumblr for helping me out and being my beta! i'm on [tumblr](http://clarkeslight.tumblr.com) if you wanna chat. please let me know what you think! i'm so sorry if this is horrible..
> 
> also, title originally is from casablanca, but it was also used in a fic i just read "[I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone (or, Clarke is a Punk Rocker)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2841170/chapters/6372887)" by itsactuallycorrine and i thought it fit a bit.. you know, minus the gin joint.
> 
> also, realized my formatting didn't transfer over, so there is appropriate _emphasis_ now...


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